


Empty Space

by Dracosalive (livesybaby)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Cruciatus, Draco's Redemption Arc, Implied/Referenced Torture, Malfoy Manor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:55:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23227462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livesybaby/pseuds/Dracosalive
Summary: Draco couldn't just stand there and let them destroy her.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 11
Kudos: 59





	Empty Space

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for any grammatical errors, this is unbeta'd and I'm struggling to use grammar check on my phone as I currently don't have a laptop! please forgive me 😅

The pain burned through her skin, yet Hermione had reached a plane otherworldly, she wasn't numb but she wasn't writhing in pain, or maybe she was and she had just disconnected from the entire experience. She felt like she'd endured days of the cruciatus, but it was likely hours - she'd committed all the spectators to memory, Greyback, the snatchers, the Malfoys.

They'd all stood silent and still while Bellatrix branded her with the vilest slur. She'd seen Fenrir's smirk, the way Narcissa blinked back tears, the stony false blankness of Lucius Malfoy. Then there was Draco. She wasn't sure when she'd locked eyes on him but she couldn't bring herself to look away as she lay there, body beaten and broken, torture continuing.

He wasn't the boy she knew from school. The cocky prick who'd excelled in potions and flying, would sneak off to the library to study in the late evenings, guarded owl post from his mother with the most secrecy and care. He wasn't the boy who'd called her names at 11, who she'd punched at 13 - the coward of a boy who'd berated her for her parentage and taunted her for her cleverness.

That boy was lost to the war along time ago and instead stood a broken, teary eyed and terrified young man, his mother's hand clasped firmly around his wrist. He couldn't take his eyes off of the girl on the ground, his cheeks hollowed and gaunt, his eyes empty and lifeless as his Aunt shot curse after curse into her fragile body.

"S-Stop.." he whispered hoarsely, causing Narcissas grip to tighten around his wrist

"Stop, t-that's enough-.." he choked out louder, his father's hand on his chest holding him back as he lunged forward desperately

"Go and check on the prisoners in the dungeons-.." Lucius instructed, maybe trying to stop an interruption, maybe trying to save his son from seeing any more horror.

It didn't work.

"I said, stop!" he roared out, breaking free of his parents' grasp and sliding on his knees beside Hermiones broken body. He looked up at his aunt, her face twisted in cruel pleasure "You're going to k-kill her.. P-Please-.."

Bellatrix had laughed, more like cackled as she turned her wand on her nephew "No one likes a sympathiser, Draco"

"He's not" Lucius grunted out, stepping forwards "This is all just a misunderstanding"

"Do explain, Lucius" Bellatrix ordered "I'm sure the Dark Lord would appreciate the truth when he arrives"

"He's just a boy-.." Lucius spat through gritted teeth, looking at his son in disdain "he harbours a ridiculous crush on the mudblood, I thought he'd grown out of such idiocy but clearly-.."

"Oh Nephew, don't you worry - I know how they can tempt you" Bellatrix cooed "I'm sure Fenrir will let you have a go when he's finished with her, I'm sure all the men will have their turn with the mudblood whore"

"N-No!" Draco spluttered out, blindly shielding her with his arm "Aunt Bella, please-.."

"Now now Draco" she tutted pitifully "I know you don't like to share your toys but-.."

"Please don't hurt her-.." he choked out, ignoring the way his father's expression turned stony and full of disappointment "Please, j-just let her go-.. please-.. obliviate her, send her off to the muggle world-.. Just please-.. N-No more-.."

His words were cut off with a shuddering "crucio" from his father's lips. Hermione braced herself for the pain that never came, just the heart wrenching scream ripped from Draco's throat as he arched his back off the ground, slamming his head back until crimson stained his pristine hair.

Hermione wasn't sure when she passed out, but the last memory etched into her mind was Draco Malfoy lay broken next to her, his eyes grey and lifeless and cheeks tear stained as his body shook with after tremors, the rich trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth marring his porcelain skin.

and then she slept.

*

waking up to familiar voices around her was both comforting and stifling. The ache in her bones hadn't subsided and her heart felt like it might thud out of her chest at any second, but the warmth of the sun through the window at shell cottage felt surreal enough for her to open her eyes just to check she wasn't hallucinating from the manor dungeons.

She wasn't.

It was evident from the sea of faces holding vigil at her bedside, they'd escaped - all except Dobby according to Harry. She lay silently as they each regaled the story to her, excited to play their parts - throwing out tidbits of information about a crashing chandelier, the defeat of the snatchers and Bellatrix' face as they apparated away.

"D-Draco" she whispered out weakly

"The ferret?" Ron asked incredulously "He wasn't there, probably out torturing muggles or something"

They all seemingly ignored the silent tear that ran down her cheek as she closed her eyes and slipped back into sleep.

*

It felt like the war went on for an age, like the last fragments of childhood had been left behind in the dust but eventually they could call an end to the tragedy, and though so many lives had been lost they could all begin to rebuild. 

Hermione never told anybody about her visits to St. Mungos, how she'd sneak in at the end of visiting hours to spend as long as she could sat next to Draco's bed. He was unconscious, she knew that - and in some kind of selfish twist of fate it made her visits easier. Made the fact that she'd sit there with his hand clasped in hers and tell him about her day a little less daunting. 

"I can't believe you did that" she'd whisper, holding his hand up against her tearstained cheek "They could have killed you, but you knew that didn't you?" 

She received no response apart from the slow rise and fall of his bare chest, covered with monitors and sticky pads, wires framing his scars like a twisted masterpiece. 

"I'm going back to hogwarts, for eighth year" she whispered into the dimlight one evening "but you'd have expected that already, can't keep away from that library can I?" 

The next time she'd snuck into the corner room she found it empty, the bedsheets folded at the bottom and the room sanitised for the next patient. 

**Author's Note:**

> This can obviously be read as a standalone with an ambiguous ending, but I'm toying with the idea of extending it into an 8th year fic if I get enough interest. Let me know :)


End file.
